Idioms
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: When the team goes to Ziva's house for a weekend brunch, they discover a locked door in her apartment. But what she's hiding in there may not be what they  or she!  think it is.


Since her return from Somalia, Ziva hadn't had any of the team over to her new apartment. Part of that was the fact that she was still reeling from the experience of being captured, tortured, and then rescued and the other part was her uncertainty of how long she would be a guest of America. She didn't want to get too comfortable if she would have to pack it all up again and leave.

As her citizenship test approached, she had the idea to invite the entire team over for a Saturday brunch. She would take care of all the cooking, of course, though she wasn't opposed to them bringing a little something as well.

Ziva had woken up to dark storm clouds, but she didn't let it get her down. She'd spent the better part of the morning cleaning and readying the apartment for her friends, and had worked up a nice-sized sweat when there was a knock at the door.

"Coming!" she called. She reached up and flicked away a few drops of sweat before going to the door.

Tim was standing there sheepishly with a bottle of wine. Judging by the wet raincoat, it was really starting to storm outside. "Hey, I know I'm early," he said apologetically. "I was going to try and swing past a comic book shop down here to see if I could find something for Sarah's birthday, but they were closed and I didn't think there was any point in going all the way back home just to come all the way back, especially not in this weather."

"It is no problem, McGee," she said. She took the bottle of wine and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. "I must take a quick shower and make myself more presentable, but please make yourself at home. Oh, and if anyone else shows up, you may let them in."

After Ziva had retreated to her bedroom, Tim shed his drenched coat and looked for a place to hang it. There were neither a coat rack nor hooks in sight and he didn't want to place it on her furniture. That's when he spotted a door to what he assumed to be the closet. Tim grabbed the knob and tried to turn it, but to his surprise it was locked. He furrowed his brow and tugged on it again. But it didn't move.

"Strange," he muttered. He'd never encountered a locked closet in someone's home. If it was a closet, of course. But what else could it be? It couldn't be another bedroom, that was for certain. A guest bathroom was a possibility, but why lock it?

He tried again to open the door, but to no avail. What on earth could Ziva be hiding in there?

His wondering was interrupted by another knock at the door. Tim looked toward the bedroom, but saw no sign of Ziva. She had instructed him to get the door if more guests arrived, so it looked like he would have to play host for a little bit. Besides, whoever it was might be able to shed some light on the mysterious door.

Another knock resounded against the wood, this time accompanied by a voice. "Open up, Ziva! I'm soaked!"

Tim yanked the door open and stepped to the side as a wet Tony pushed past him. "Probie," he grumbled as he slipped out of his coat. "Lovely weather we're having, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," Tim agreed, stepping back to avoid getting hit by Tony's drenched raincoat. "Ziva's still getting ready."

"Just glad I'm not the last one here. I left early because I figured the rain would slow people down. Hey, could you get that closet door for me?"

"It's no use," Tim said with a shake of his head, "the door is locked."

Tony stopped and looked at him uncertainly. "Locked? What, are you joking?"

"Try it yourself if you don't believe me."

Tony did just that. He grabbed the knob and jiggled it, tugging lightly at the door. "What the…" He gave it another hard pull. It didn't budge. "Why's this thing locked?"

"Don't ask me."

"It doesn't make sense!" Tony exclaimed. He placed a foot flat on the wall beside the door for leverage and grabbed the knob with both hands. Then he leaned back and pulled with all his might. His muscles strained and he worked up a bit of a sweat, but the door remained closed. "What the hell is in there?"

Another knock at the door. "How should I know?" Tim asked as he went to greet the next guest.

"Hi, Timmy!" Abby greeted as she entered with Gibbs, Ducky, and Jimmy in tow. She gave him a one-armed hug as her other arm was currently cradling a bouquet of black roses. "Where's our lovely hostess?"

"Getting ready, but I can take those," he said, offering out his hands for the flowers.

"Thanks," she said as she handed them off. "I need to get out of this raincoat."

"Yeah, well, good luck finding a place to hang it," Tony grumbled, still tugging at the door. "This looks to be the only closet and it's locked."

"Locked?" Ducky asked. "Why on earth would it be locked?"

"Obviously Ziva has something in there that she wants to keep hidden," Gibbs said, though he did give the doorknob a jostle of his own.

"Must be where she keeps her Mossad torture devices," Tony quipped. With a shiver, he added, "God only knows how many poor men's blood is covering them."

"Well?" Abby asked expectantly. Everyone looked at her, waiting for her to finish her thought, which she did with a frustrated groan. "Somebody pick the lock!"

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," Jimmy said nervously, his eyes flickering to the closed door of Ziva' bedroom. "What if she comes out here and catches us prying?"

"It's a closet, Palmer," Tony said with a roll of his eyes. "It's not like we're trying to break the lock on her diary. Besides, we need to put our coats somewhere, right?" Everyone murmured in agreement. "So let's crack this bad boy open…and I say McGoo should have the honors since he was the first one here."

Tim winced. "Actually, Tony, you're much better at dealing with locks, as you so often remind me. How about you handle this one while I watch and I can get the next one."

"I'm pulling seniority, Probie. Now pick the lock!"

"No, you pick it!"

"You pick it!"

The bickering was cut off with two swift smacks to the head, administered by none other than Gibbs. "By the time you two figure out who's doing it, the party will be over," he muttered as he pushed past him and to the door. "_I'll_ do it."

The others stood back and watched as Gibbs toyed with the lock on the door. He wasn't quite as skilled as Ziva at lock-picking, especially when he didn't have his usual tools, but he kept at it and soon they heard the all too satisfying click, indicating the door was now unlocked. Gibbs straightened up and slowly opened the door…

"What the hell?" Tony asked as they surveyed the contents of the now unlocked closet. Hanging along the rods was an array of skeletons. Some were paper skeletons, like the kind one might see at Halloween, while some were plastic, like the kind that hang in classrooms. They filled the closet from wall to wall.

"Well, that certainly wasn't what I expected," Ducky commented breathlessly. None of them had expected that. It was too bizarre to have even suspected.

"I see everyone is here," Ziva chirped as she exited her bedroom, showered and dressed in nice slacks and a nice button-up top. Everyone jumped at her voice and moved away from the closet, their eyes filled with guilt.

"Ziva…hey," Tim greeted awkwardly. "We…uh…well, we needed a place to put our wet raincoats and…uh…"

Her eyes widened as she realized what they were looking it. "Oh, no!" she moaned as she ran to the closet and slammed the door shut. "Oh, no, you found them!"

"Uh, what are they exactly?" Jimmy asked.

"Can you not tell?" she said, her cheeks growing red. "They are the skeletons in my closet!"

Tony furrowed his brow "Um, your what?" he asked, certain that he was missing something.

"The skeletons in my closet," she repeated in exasperation. "I'm sure you've heard Americans talk about them, yes? They are not something you want anyone else to know about."

"I see…" Ducky began slowly. "Uh, Ziva, where did you hear about these 'skeletons in the closet'?"

"Well, everyone talks about them so much. Gibbs, Tony, McGee. I admit, Abby in particular strikes me as knowing a thing or two about it," she added with a smirk in Abby's direction. "I assumed it was some sort of American tradition and I wanted to be as American as possible."

"And you assumed that these skeletons in the closet that we spoke of were…well…actual skeletons in an actual closet," Tim clarified.

"Of course, McGee!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "What else would they be?"

"You seem to mistaken, my dear!" Ducky explained with a chuckle. "You see, the term "skeletons in the closet" dates back to the early 19th century when it was used by William Henry Stowell in _The Eclectic Review_. He used it in reference to-"

"What Ducky is trying to say," Tony interrupted for fear that Ducky may drone on without their being able to stop him, "is that the term "skeletons in the closet" isn't meant to be taken literally."

"Then how is it supposed to be taken?"

"It refers to embarrassing secrets from a person's past," Tim explained gently. "Like if someone's dad is an alcoholic or if they used to have a drug problem. That's what it means, not…uh, _that_," he said with a gesture to the open closet.

Ziva furrowed her brow as she looked around at the team and into the closet. "Oh. So then what do I have?"

"Uh, a closet full of skeletons."

"And that is not the same?"

"No, not really."

"…I see…"

Gibbs stepped forward, took a hold of the door, and slowly closed it. "Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I say we eat."

Everyone murmured their agreement, trying to dispel the awkwardness as quickly as possible. They put the entire ordeal out of their minds—well, as much as one could put such an ordeal out of their mind—and focused on the lovely meal that had been prepared for them.

Ziva, to her credit, made a great effort to hide her embarrassment. Mostly, she busied herself with making sure plates and glasses were filled and seeing to it that her guests were happy. When the meal was over, she shooed away anyone who tried to clean their dishes, insisting that they enjoy their drinks while she handle the cleaning.

Slowly, the team began saying their good-byes, thanking Ziva for her hospitality, and not even mentioning the entire "skeletons in the closet" misunderstanding. Soon they were all gone. Well, almost.

"Ziva," Tim said as he pulled on his coat, "I just want to apologize for all of this. I'm the one who kept trying to get the door open. If I'd known…"

"It is okay, McGee," she said, lifting a hand to stop the explanation. "I was only doing it because I've heard so many Americans talk about them and I wanted to be as American as possible. I am glad to have been corrected before I purchased more skeletons to put in there."

Tim couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but he grinned anyway. "Well, I'm sure Abby would love to take a few of those of your hands. She'd probably try to decorate her lab with them."

"I only wish we had been able to talk about it a bit more. Everyone seemed to be trading so carefully, like they might hurt my feelings, but that only made it more uncomfortable for me. I just wanted to…" She trailed off, trying to figure the best way to put it.

"Wanted to stop ignoring the elephant in the room?" Tim suggested.

Once again, Ziva furrowed her brow in confusion. "Elephant in the room?"

"Oh, sorry! It means something awkward that everyone knows about, but no one wants to mention. Sometimes it's better just to get it out and talk about it."

"Yes…I see," Ziva said with a tight-lipped smile. "Well, thank you, McGee, for coming and for your help. I will see you on Monday."

Tim gave her a nod before walking out the door. Ziva waited until the door was closed then counted to twenty before grabbing her cell phone. "Hello, yes? This is Ziva David…yes, the one who called about ordering an elephant for her room. You can go ahead and cancel that order…"

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**Thanks for reading!**


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